It’s all about the Peace

I recently had a wonderful visit from a dear friend who lives some distance away.  We had arranged to escape from my home, where not only do I juggle wife and mother duties, but write, and also manage our business. I knew it would be near to impossible to sufficiently catch up on each other’s lives if we stayed in my busy environment.

I decided to book a little cabin at Cape Hillsborough Resort. It wasn’t flash accommodation, but it was comfortable, and it was right on the beach. It was a delightful plan, but as I prepared to leave my house, my husband gave me some more food for my relaxation thoughts.

‘You’ll never be able to sit around doing nothing. You’ll be completely bored on day one,’ he said.

‘No way,’ I thought. This was something I’d desired for so long—a peaceful time away, with no demands, no stress, no daily grind. For once I could abandon my periodic complaints about not having enough time to relax. I could be at peace.

After picking up my friend from the airport, we chatted about how much we were both looking forward to the break, with nothing to do for two whole days but sit around, soak up the sun, and catch up.

Upon arrival at our cabin I busied myself unpacking, organizing bedding, and generally doing all the household chores I had happily run away from. We toured the resort then walked on the beach where I found it difficult to merely stroll. My normal beach walks are brisk—they have to be, so I can fit them into my day. I caught up with Facebook, and spent some time getting back to business contacts.

What was I doing! Wasn’t this all about the peace? I made the decision to abandon my mobile phone.

Day two started at dawn, like my normal mornings, but this time I was up early to visit the kangaroos that congregate on the beach. It was beautiful but not very peaceful, as a gaggle of resort guests had also awoken early for the occasion. The sleep-in I had mentally planned wasn’t going to happen.

I happily concurred with my friend’s plan to retire to the beach for the rest of the morning. I lay in the sun, feeling the heat on my skin and reveling in the soothing splashes of gentle waves as they broke on the shore. I sighed, pleased to be in happy sync with the tropical harmony . . . for all of twenty minutes, until the spark of an idea for a blog post topic forced me to move into the shade of a rock and grab my tablet to record my thoughts. I emerged from a self-exiled writing pause two hours later, to find the midday sun had stolen my shade, and I was slightly red on the side of my leg where the sun had been pounding.

Maybe my husband had voiced an inconvenient truth. While tossing between opposing states of vexation and epiphany, I finally admitted I was having great trouble translating the go-go-go of my day-to-day life into the peace of doing nothing.

At first, the revelation made me feel guilty. After all, my complaints about not having enough time to relax and no time to myself now sounded like elaborate whining. How could I complain, knowing I couldn’t even discipline myself to stop on a mini-holiday? But soon an entirely new perspective emerged.

I realized that peace doesn’t necessarily consist of hours spent lolling on a beach. At least, not for me. Maybe my idea of peace looked more like a conversation with my husband after a long day’s work, or a good home-cooked meal in the evening, an early night, and equally early morning at our bush camp. Maybe peace is time to write after my son and husband are asleep, an office with nothing in the ‘to do’ tray, the conversational catch-up and communion I had enjoyed with my dear friend during her stay, and unlimited time to spend with my Father in Heaven.

I realized that, for me, peace isn’t always about stopping. It’s about enjoying the moments in everyday life when peace falls upon me.

LORD, you establish peace for us; all that we have accomplished you have done for us. Isaiah 26:12 (NIV)

I challenge you, dear reader, to consider the places in your everyday life where you find peace, and take a few extra moments to revel in them. As Jesus said:

Peace I leave with you; my peace I give you. I do not give to you as the world gives. Do not let your hearts be troubled and do not be afraid. John 14:27 (NIV)

We will always have the peace Jesus offers. We have only to accept it. 

PS; I highly recommend Cape Hillsborough Tourist Park for your next get-away. It's the perfect North Queensland destination for couples, families—young and old. Affordable, but comfortable, and the locals (both human and animal) are so friendly. The beaches, sea, and national park is pretty spectacular too.

Find out more here: https://capehillsboroughresort.com.au/

First Seen in Book Fun Magazine: https://www.bookfun.org/

Rose was born in North Queensland, Australia. Her childhood experiences growing up in a small beach community would later provide inspiration for her Resolution series.

Two of the three Resolution novels have won Australian CALEB awards. She has also released The Greenfield Legacy, a collaborative novel highlighting the pain of Australia’s past policy of forced adoption, as well as standalone novel, Ehvah After. Her most recent release is the novella, A Christmas Resolution.

Her novels are inspired by the love of her coastal home and her desire to produce stories that point readers to Jesus. Rose holds a Bachelor of Arts degree, and resides in Mackay, North Queensland with her husband and son.

Visit Rose at: https://rosedee.com/

Is History Repeating?

What is it, to see history repeating? I suspect I recently stumbled across a personal example of this phenomenon. You see, I live in a little town called Mackay in North Queensland. Historically, Mackay was like most towns in this region. It relied on primary industry to survive. Cane farms, sugar mills, cattle properties—these were the town’s driving industries.

But by the year 2000, a mighty industry came to town. Mining. It wasn’t entirely new—the gold rush era of the 1800s had seen mining towns pop up, thrive, and die throughout our region. But this time it wasn’t gold that drove a new mining boom. It was coal.

My family and I lived through this coal boom. Housing prices rose sky high, new businesses popped up to support the mines, a mass of people moved into town, and the money rolled in. A lot of other ‘mining town’ elements moved in as well. The long-standing residents, who were mostly multi-generational conservative families, did battle against the establishment of strip joints, brothels, and the town suffered an increase in drug and alcohol related violence.

But like all mining booms, the frenzy eventually subsided, and in the last four years, the boom has become a bust for many. Falling coal prices and an international slowdown in demand has contributed to the downturn. Now the miners and their families have left town, many businesses have closed up shop, and we who were here before are left to make sense of the town once more.

I gained further perspective of this repetition of history when I took my son and step-daughter to Sovereign Hill in Ballarat, Victoria. This is a gold mining town reconstructed to 1800s gold rush-era standards. It transports the visitor back in time in an effort to experience what life was like back in the “glory” days of gold.

What I found most strange about our visit to this historic-themed town was that the rise and fall of Sovereign Hill was much like the rise and fall of my town, Mackay. The whiff of riches inspired many to flock to Sovereign Hill and to Mackay. They rode the wave of fortune, and rode the same wave out when the gold dried up. What they left behind were communities with an identity crisis, and residents who needed to develop a new state of normal. The glory days were over, and Sovereign Hill, like Mackay, was a small town again.

But we are a lucky town. There were plenty of towns that didn’t make it, like Mount Britton. In the gold rush era, this town was a big deal. When the gold ran out, the town died. It never recovered, and to this day, it’s nothing more than a flat piece of land, a few headstones, and street signs to nowhere.

History repeating doesn’t just apply to mining towns. As I study my Bible I see the effects of this phenomena of rising and falling. The mighty civilisations that were, then weren’t. I wonder at these great cities. I am sure that those who lived in them had a sense of security. Their money flowed, and their power increased as they won battles and fought wars. Like mining towns, they thrived. The people in them rode the waves of success. They thought themselves invincible, safe, secure.

So the question I ask you, reader, is this: are you living in a civilization in decline? Are you thinking peace, security, safety? Do you think we’ll never end? We have the weapons. We have the power. We have the democracy.

Or, like these towns that profit and fall, are we sitting pretty, waiting for the historic axe to fall? Is the big wheel turning and history simply repeating?

While people are saying, “Peace and safety,” destruction will come on them suddenly, as labor pains on a pregnant woman, and they will not escape. 1 Thessalonians 5:3 (NIV)

I don’t want to indulge in doomsday prophecies, but I also can’t help but wonder what it is like to be in decline. What are the signs? Would we know them, even if we were living in the midst of them?

I wonder at our state as the moral fibre of our western culture is tested, stretched, and twisted, and the emphasis on lifestyle, money, and possessions is seen by so many as paramount to our happiness. I look back at history and I can’t help but wonder: are we in a constant state of history repeating?

What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again; there is nothing new under the sun. Ecclesiastes 1:9 (NIV)

First seen in Book Fun Magazine: https://www.bookfun.org/

Rose was born in North Queensland, Australia. Her childhood experiences growing up in a small beach community would later provide inspiration for her Resolution series.

Two of the three Resolution novels have won Australian CALEB awards. She has also released The Greenfield Legacy, a collaborative novel highlighting the pain of Australia’s past policy of forced adoption, as well as standalone novel, Ehvah After. Her most recent release is the novella, A Christmas Resolution.

Her novels are inspired by the love of her coastal home and her desire to produce stories that point readers to Jesus. Rose holds a Bachelor of Arts degree, and resides in Mackay, North Queensland with her husband and son.

www.rosedee.com

Herald the Day

Muted hues of dawn light filtered through the rectangular windows of the caravan. I sat up in bed to peer through the dusty glass. The interior of the bush garage that housed our camping abode was scarcely visible in the soft daybreak. I scanned the garage ceiling to check if our resident bat, Bruce Wayne, had survived the night. He swung off his steel rafter, no doubt feeling satisfied after feasting on the insect smorgasbord that swirled around our many solar lights every night.

The garage window made the perfect frame for the view of the bush and gully beyond our camp. I rubbed my eyes to focus on the pair of local kookaburras living on our hill. One bird fluffed its feathers as it perched on a gum tree branch, tilting its head from side to side in an effort to see around its long beak as it searched the ground for breakfast.

The second kookaburra lifted its head high and let out a great laughing cry. The first followed, and they chorused a laughing song. These birds amaze me. They know the exact moment a new day will break and the exact moment the day fades into evening. They herald both times with great gusto, megaphoning laughing echoes into the air. I imagined them singing, ‘Here comes the day, get out of bed, a new day is here.’ And then at dusk, ‘Night is coming. The day is gone. Sleep is here.’

The enthusiasm these birds show for each new day made me think about all the times I have literally dragged myself out of bed, complaining. Complaining about still being tired, about not getting enough sleep, and about how much I have to do. This morning, I fell back against my pillow, listening to my feathered neighbours heralding the new day, and tried to recall the last time dawn had delighted me so much I had broken out into song. I couldn’t recall a recent early morning spontaneous outburst of joy.

Nor could I remember an instance when I had rejoiced at having seen through a day. There were times I had sat at the end of a busy day, content in what I had achieved. But, unlike the kookaburras, I hadn’t rejoiced over the day, or paid such vocal homage to a cycle of sunlight.

I snuggled under the covers, and became transfixed by an exquisite Granny’s Cloak Moth fluttering from wall to wall, looking for a place to land. The brown eyes on its wings winked at me as it chose a comfortable resting place. I closed my eyes and listened to the wind as it roared up the gully. Tree tops rustled, then shook, as the driving gust moved through the bush. It sounded like a distant freight train getting closer and closer, until the unseen force was upon the camp causing the tin to rattle and the eucalyptus trees to drop dry twigs on the tin roof. The freight train of wind moved on, creating havoc in the foliage further up the hill, and then disappeared over the mountain top. I smiled as I thought about the way my entire world was heralding the day.

As put my feet on the floor, I hummed, ‘This is the day that the Lord has made.’ I thought about my place in the world, and how separated—or removed—I often feel. When I am home in my town house, I barely notice my natural environment. I knew nature was there. I saw and heard various animals on occasion, but it is hard to distinguish the kookaburra calls over the clatter of household appliances, the neighbour’s stereo, and the traffic on our busy road.

At home, I don’t awaken to nature’s heralding call, but to the scream of an alarm. There are no winking moths, no resident bats, and no local animals calling to say good morning. The soft early light doesn’t pat me awake. Instead, I often woke to the sun piercing through a slit in my blind. Nature is there—outside—but I’m not nearly as aware of it as I am at our camp. My town environment doesn’t seem to love me like my bush environment does.

All these morning events and contemplations drew me to a fabulous conclusion. I am a part of an astounding creation, and I don’t make the most of it. I thanked the Lord for our camp, far away from the sounds of humanity. Through its seclusion I had discovered what I was missing.

 I thought about this Bible verse from Luke 5:16:

‘But Jesus Himself would often slip away to the wilderness and pray.’ (New American Standard Bible)

I am certain that our Lord knew the value of the awesome creation we live in. Locked away in our houses, streets, towns and cities, it is easy to forget we are part of a much bigger picture. It is easy to overlook the bond we share with the natural world. Beyond us are innumerable creatures, plants and elements who all herald each day. I challenge you, dear reader, to slip away to your local wilderness sometime soon, and find your own way to herald the day.

First seen in Book Fun Magazine:

https://indd.adobe.com/view/ee394659-c0ea-4eef-b1e5-57568b840f4d

Rose was born in North Queensland, Australia. Her childhood experiences growing up in a small beach community would later provide inspiration for her Resolution series.

Two of the three Resolution novels have won Australian CALEB awards. She has also released The Greenfield Legacy, a collaborative novel highlighting the pain of Australia’s past policy of forced adoption, as well as standalone novel, Ehvah After. Her most recent release is the novella, A Christmas Resolution.

Her novels are inspired by the love of her coastal home and her desire to produce stories that point readers to Jesus. Rose holds a Bachelor of Arts degree, and resides in Mackay, North Queensland with her husband and son.

 Visit Rose at: https://rosedee.com/

Everything Old Becomes New Again.

My son recently turned nine. He desperately wanted the theme of his party to be Pokemon. He’s crazy about this childhood phenomena that swept through the 1990’s generation, then died significantly, only to live on in the shadows of diehards fans. Now it’s back, as popular and lucrative as ever. I pondered the dramatic return of these slightly annoying creatures, and came to a strange conclusion: Everything old becomes new again.

Cinderella, the timeless fairytale re-told through generations, has undergone yet another re-vamp and is currently playing to audiences around the globe. I can’t wait to see it (if I can drag my son away from Pokemon to do something ‘girly’, that is.) Then there are television shows. I googled ‘old TV shows being remade’. The results claimed that over fifty movies, and at least eight television shows are currently in the process of being reinvented for a new generation.

And, of course, many movies are actually adaptations of books, including The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and Fifty Shades (no, I haven’t seen the movie or read the books). Fifty Shades is itself an adaptation, of the Twilight series, which I did read. Although I managed to ignore the controlling male character in Twilight, I found some interest in the romance factor – something I am told Fifty Shades lacks.

Even Twilight is said to be a reinvention, with a contemporary American setting, and the addition of vampires and werewolves. The first book is apparently a retelling of Pride and Prejudice, while the second is Romeo and Juliet (I’m told the third and fourth are also retellings of famous romances, but I can’t recall which ones). 

With so many remakes over so many creative genres, I had to ask myself the question, have humans run out of ideas, or are we so invested in a sure thing (money-wise) that we are unwilling to take a risk on all things new and untested?

What do you think? Are we taking enough creative risks? Or have new ideas been replaced with the greater-valued sure thing?

You can visit Rose Dee at: http://rosedee.com/

A special thank you to Iola Goulton for the extra information about the Twilight series.  

Lego Movie Inspiration.

I haven’t seen many recent mainstream movies with an underlying message of faith. I've seen movies that could potentially inspire the watcher to believe in themselves, in magic, in the power of ‘mother’ nature, or in the love of sisterhood, but I haven’t come across many that would inspire a belief in God. So it was with some surprise that I found a message of faith in Lego.

The Lego Movie was released in Australia last week. 

This is what I took away from the story:

If you believe in ’The Man Upstairs’ He can use an ordinary person like you to do extraordinary things.

In this Lego world ‘The Man Upstairs’ is a small boy who has created the story line and placed the Lego characters in their ‘save the world’ predicament. I won’t go into an extensive review of this movie, suffice to say the Christian message came through to me loud and clear. What struck me about this movie is that it is a story aimed at the mainstream market, and at its heart seems to be a message of faith. It made me think so much about my own writing. Can we, as Christian authors, bring a message of faith to the mainstream world? I think we can. I think we should. I believe that where God inspires the will, He will show the way.

So if it is on your heart to write a mainstream story with a message of faith, but you think you won’t find an audience, think again. If God has given you the calling, I know He will give you the audience.

Hey, If Lego can be used, we can too. :-)

Rose, who holds a Bachelor of Arts Degree, was born in North Queensland, Australia. Her childhood experiences growing up in a small beach community would later provide inspiration for her first novel, 'Back to Resolution'. 

Her novels are inspired by the love of her coastal home and desire to produce exciting and contemporary stories of faith for women. 

'Beyond Resolution', and 'A New Resolution' are the second and third books in the 'Resolution' series. 

Rose's debut novel 'Back to Resolution' won Bookseller's Choice at the CALEB Awards 2012. 'A New Resolution' won the Fiction prize, CALEB 2013. 

She has also released 'The Greenfield Legacy', a collaborative novel, written in conjunction with three other outstanding Australian authors. 

Rose resides in Mackay, North Queensland with her husband, young son, and mischievous pup, Noodle. 

Visit Rose at:

http://rosedee.com/

x

Who needs Minions when you have perspective!

Recently, I jokingly said that I needed Minions. They are the little yellow beings in ‘Despicable Me’ that run around looking after all the menial tasks so that their master can get on with whatever he wants to do. I had decided that all the necessary things I needed to do in life were keeping me from what I love to do – write.

Finding the time to write is a topic well versed in literary circles. Unfortunately not every author can boast a great living from writing, so we have ‘day jobs’, and also ‘home jobs’; ‘mother and father jobs’; ‘generally-helping-others jobs’, and the lists go on and on. Then there are the vital tasks of promotion and helping others promote their work. It is amazing how long you can spend sitting at a computer at night. I was starting to wonder if I would ever get the chance to concentrate solely on a new work in progress.

Lately I have even grown to loathe my catch cry of ‘I’m sorry, I’m so busy.’ It is starting to sound like an excuse for everything, even to me, who finds frustration in just how busy I am. But then I came to a realisation - to everything there is a season.

My new writing may be a slower process than usual, but perhaps that is the plan. Maybe all this business is the Lord’s way of telling me to slow down on the new work, He has something else for me to do right now.

When I look back and see the enormity of releasing four books in less than twelve months, I can see that I needed a break. My released work also needed a break. It needed to be nurtured, and to grow. How does it grow? It gets fed. So only having the time to feed my released work has really been a great thing.

As writers, churning out new work is what we think we need to do. But the fact is an author doesn't just write anymore. We also need to promote and support the publisher who has taken the risk on our work. It’s about taking the time to work on getting our books read.

So I have decided that I don’t need Minions. I need to be in God’s plan for the work I am doing for His purpose. I need to give myself a break and pray about where He wants me to be – and BE there with a committed work ethic, and a joyful heart.

Saying Goodbye

Today, I'm filling in for Rose Dee who is in a very busy time. She will be taking my spot next week.

I don't know about you, but I become teary when I say goodbye to family and friends after they've come to visit. Last Easter weekend was no exception when our son visited with us. We had a time of deep sharing of our fears and hopes and dreams. A time to go deeper into our relationship and learn new things about each other. The sharing moved me deeply. We'd crossed another point of no return in our bonding. When Dan left I cried. He laughed lovingly. I was being sentimental, again.

As writers we become intimate with our characters. We share their high and low times. We conquer mountains, swim oceans and enter into deep dark places with them. We share secrets and argue with them in the same way we do with real people.

What happens to our characters in our minds when we finish a book? I like that they continue to live on between the covers of our books. I would like to think that is the end of those characters and I can move on to creating the next family to write about, but I can't. The characters became living breathing people. I've spent a year or more with them. Learning their likes and dislikes, their fears and hopes for the future. They've become close friends, the type we can argue with and still come up smiling at the end of the day and be stronger in our relationship.

I don't know about you, but I have one heck of a time trying to let go of my characters. I go through a grieving process and have to pray for guidance and strength to let go of these 'people'. A year or more later, I'm still thinking about them wondering how they're getting along and what challenges they're facing. I ask them if they want me to write another story about them. They answer, 'No, we're happy'.

Although, Kizza and Justin from African Hearts want me to write more about them. They're going to go through some tough times. I say yes, and immediately they come to life in my mind again. This is an exciting time and I can't wait until I get pen and paper to draft what they're telling me. I'm also pleased I'm not saying goodbye to them. We're going to have fun again.

Do you find it hard to say goodbye to your characters? Have they become so ingrained in you that they become real friends and you need to go through a grieving process?